Don't Pass Me By
by chiroho
Summary: Emily Prentiss starts dating someone towards the end of S4 and Aaron Hotchner tries to deal with that. Lots of heavy duty angst. Spoilers for events through all of S5.
1. I hate to see you go

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Criminal Minds. Obviously.

**Author's Note: **Okay, so this story is nothing at all like the first CM story I published, because that was all light and fluffy and this seems to have gone to the complete other end of the spectrum. You can thank my muse for that. Of course, the fact that I've been able to write two stories inside a month for the first time in over four years means I won't be complaining. Obviously lots of angst here, which was actually difficult for me to write when I was putting this together. Rather inspired by the TV Prompt Challenge "The Rise and Fall of Paul the Wall" from challenge set #8. Thank you as always to **Sue C** for the beta, and to **sarramaks** for the discussions which inspired the second part of this chapter.

* * *

_Don't pass me by, don't make me cry, don't make me blue,_

_'Cause you know darling, I love only you._

_You'll never know it hurt me so,_

_I hate to see you go._

_Don't pass me by, don't make me cry._

- Ringo Starr

**

* * *

**

**I hate to see you go**

The light coming through the windows of the office had slowly faded without him really noticing, deepening the shadows in the room until the only light source was the lamp above his desk. It wasn't that late, sunset coming before five now that daylight savings time had finally ended, but the gloom which now pervaded his physical environment seemed to have a correlation with the gloom which filled his soul. He looked at his watch, knowing that she'd be stopping by his office soon to say good night. It was something she'd always done, for every member of the team, whenever they hadn't been on a case. While he'd never asked, he'd always assumed that it was a way of bringing a small amount of normalcy to the horror which they dealt with on a daily basis, the same way that they all liked to laugh and joke whenever the opportunity arose – everyone except him anyway. There had been a time when he'd started to open up a little, trying to push back the stoicism which was his typical mask, but that had changed after what happened with Foyet, and after what had happened with her. Now there never seemed to be a reason to smile, just an emptiness which was only filled with cases under review, and thoughts of Foyet.

The knock came unexpectedly, interrupting his thoughts, making him realise that he'd been staring at whatever was on his desk for a long time. Despite the fact that he'd lost track of what it was he'd been doing, he answered without looking up. He knew who it was at the door anyway.

"Come."

The door opened just enough for her to push her head in. It was what she did, something he'd always considered uniquely her. Dave always walked into the room fully, but she just popped her head inside the door, hanging around the frame. She didn't always smile, sometimes it was impossible to smile given what they dealt with, but that had changed of late. Now there was nearly always a smile on her face when she poked her head around the door, and that was probably what hurt the most. Not the smile itself, because he'd always enjoyed seeing her happy, but the reason for it. The same reason that she was leaving earlier these days. The reason she concentrated more on getting her work done than tormenting Morgan, or discussing Reid's current subject of interest. The reason he no longer had any reason to smile himself.

"'Night, Hotch!"

There was a vibrancy to her voice that he'd first started to notice a few months ago. At the time he'd thought nothing of it, but as the weeks had passed he'd realised that there was a very good reason for her excitement at leaving the office – she had somewhere to go, or more specifically someone to be with. He'd heard the conversations between JJ and Garcia, though he'd tried not to listen once he'd discovered what they'd been talking about, mostly because each time the topic had come up, they'd been more excited for her – and he'd died just a little more inside.

He didn't think that anyone had noticed how much her increasing joy in life had been reflected by an increasing withdrawal on his part – or at least that the two had been connected. He knew that some of them had definitely noted that the glimmers of emotion and relationship he'd begun to show had faded into a permanent stoic mask, and he hoped that they put it down to what had happened with the attack and his family. He suspected that Dave had connected the dots, but if so he hadn't said anything, even after that day last week when she'd come into the office wearing a ring on her left hand and grinning like she'd never stop. Fortunately he'd been previously scheduled for a custodial interview that morning, so he'd taken the one team member who would be least likely to confront him on anything, and the least likely to talk about her so long as he could provide a conversation starter. In the end, Reid had talked the whole way there and back, giving him the perfect excuse for not talking. He'd even been able to drag out the interview so that they didn't get back until late in the evening, which meant he hadn't had to see her again that day - though he hadn't avoided seeing Strauss.

It hadn't surprised him at all that she'd finally found the political support to force him out of his position. Ever since he'd been suspended two years previously, he knew that she'd been looking for the opportunity to move on him, and she'd have been a fool to let this one go. What she hadn't expected was his acquiescence to her demands. Yes, he'd fought her at first, though that was more out of the principle of doing so than anything else, but in the end he'd actually got what he wanted – a transfer to a different state. He'd known for a while that they'd been looking for a candidate to head the San Antonio Field Office, so when she'd come looking for him to step down, he'd been able to bargain for the San Antonio position. While it would have been nicer to go to New York or Connecticut, because it would have meant being closer to Sean, he knew that those locations were more likely to be visited by the team. In all the years he'd worked in the BAU, there had only ever been one case in the San Antonio area. It also brought him closer to home. There were as many bad memories there as good, but any place he didn't have to see her every day was a day in which he thought just maybe he'd be able to cope.

He'd had a much more difficult time convincing Morgan of the need for change. At first he'd wanted to fight Strauss tooth and nail, anything to back up his friend and his boss. But when Morgan had realised that not only would he be stepping down but would also be leaving the unit, the fight had got even tougher. He'd finally convinced Morgan of his need to leave. If he hadn't stepped down voluntarily, Strauss would have simply transferred him out and then broken up the team. By promoting Morgan, the team would remain largely intact – though he himself would be leaving. And that was a necessity in order to give Morgan the latitude he needed to make the job his own. Morgan couldn't always be looking over his shoulder wondering whether he was making the right decision, and there certainly could be no confusion in the chain of command. It was for the best. Morgan had wanted to make this temporary, just until Foyet had been caught, but he'd convinced him in the end that it was better he leave entirely. Try and make a new life away from the place where so many bad things had happened in his life.

So tonight would be his last night with the unit. He'd take a few of his personal things with him today, but the remainder could be boxed up and shipped when the opportunity arose. He knew that Dave would see to that. And he'd say goodbye to them all after she left. It was going to be difficult enough without having to deal with her reaction. He knew that made him a coward, but he didn't think he could face the questions he knew she would ask. She'd always been the one to ask the direct question, to cut through the BS and get to the bottom of an issue. And even though she was in love with another man, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to lie to her about the real reasons for his leaving if she asked the right questions. And the last thing she needed was him raining on her parade, just when she seemed to have finally found what she'd always wanted.

He looked up from the blur of papers on his desk, and saw the dark hair framing her face, her left hand holding the door frame. He tried hard not to notice the glimmer of light reflecting off the finger of her hand, and focused instead on her face, taking one last look because he knew he would very likely never see her again. She was happy, a smile on her face and a shining light in her eyes that he knew she hadn't had until recently. It made her look alive, but left a profoundly bittersweet feeling when he saw it, because it was something that tore him apart inside.

"Goodbye, Emily."

He tried to make it sound light, as though he was saying good night just like every other time she'd stopped by his office on the way out the door, but he knew that this really was a goodbye – it's just that she didn't know it. Of course, being the outstanding profiler that she was, she immediately recognised that there was something different in his voice, and her smile faded slightly.

"Hotch? Everything okay?"

He cursed mentally. Somehow he had to get past this conversation so he could speak to the rest of the team before they left.

"I'm fine. Just tired."

It was true enough. He hadn't slept well in weeks, particularly the last two nights as he'd readied everything for Morgan taking over. He knew he had dark rings under his eyes, more than he'd had in years. But that was from the dreams, or perhaps they should be called nightmares, he had about her, not sorting and labelling files.

"You sure?"

He clamped down on his feelings, and made sure his mask was in place.

"I'm fine. Goodnight."

It was a dismissal, and even though he could see in her eyes that she would have liked to pursue the issue, she took it as such. He looked down at the papers on his desk again before she could read any of the feelings he knew had to be showing in his eyes.

"Okay. See you tomorrow then."

He half grunted in response, not trusting himself to verbalise an answer, and sighed in relief when he heard her close the door. He felt a tear running down his cheek, and saw it land on the file in front of him. He mentally wished her all the best. All life's happiness. He watched as another tear landed beside the first. A life without him.

* * *

The individual conversations with the team had gone largely as he'd expected – though there had been exceptions. JJ had been in tears, and had actually hugged him, surprising him with the depth of her reaction. They'd had a connection ever since he'd brought her into the BAU, a relationship that was somewhere between brother/sister and father/daughter. Her relationship with Will hadn't changed that – she'd always cared for him, and he'd always tried to be there for her, despite his seeming inability to express emotion since Haley had left. Garcia had been in tears as well, promising she'd keep in touch, keep track of what he was doing. He knew she meant it. Reid had been surprised, but had said that he'd almost expected something since Foyet's attack. Dave had just looked at him, looked into him in the way that only a friend could, and had nodded, then said that he'd take care of Emily. He knew Dave had seen the relief in his eyes when he'd said that, understood the real reason for his leaving Quantico.

He hadn't spoken with anyone outside the immediate team, needing a quiet exit. He just wanted to slip away, move onto the next thing before he ended up hunched in a chair, sobbing. That would come later, he knew, probably once he got back to the bleakness of his rented apartment. The tears on his desk were evidence that the pain was breaking through the wall he'd so carefully constructed, bringing it crashing down. He had to get out before that happened.

So he was surprised when he heard a knock at his door a couple of hours later. He'd been in the process of packing up the mementos around his office - photos of Jack, and some of the awards from the shelf behind his desk. He'd thought that everyone had left, which would have allowed him to slip away into the darkness. Instead he saw Morgan standing there, arms folded across his chest. He kept putting things in the box, taking his time, not knowing why the other man was there, and allowing him to take the first step in the conversation. Silence reigned for several minutes, as he finally finished what he was doing, and raised his head to look towards the door. Morgan hadn't moved, but his gaze narrowed slightly as they made eye contact. Time passed, and they both just stood there, looking at each other, not wanting to be the one who shattered the silence, and brought reality to their situation. So he spent the time reinforcing his walls, desperately trying to ensure that he could keep them up until he was safely away from this place which held so many memories.

"You're not going to speak to Emily?"

It was the question Dave hadn't had to ask, had known the answer to without asking. And now he had to answer it.

"I said goodbye to her before she left."

It wasn't a lie, because he had said goodbye, though it had been without context. She had no idea of the reality of the situation, and would be forced to deal with it in the morning when she arrived and found his office empty. Hopefully Dave would be in early enough to look after her as he'd promised.

He saw Morgan raise an eyebrow, obviously not believing the statement. He wouldn't have either, had their roles been reversed.

"You told her you were leaving?"

He sighed, not wanting to have to go through this, but not able to answer the question either.

"Not … exactly."

He looked down at his desk, unable to meet Morgan's penetrating gaze.

"So what _did_ you say … exactly?"

"I said goodbye."

It came out as little more than a mumble, but he knew that it carried across the silence of the room.

"Is she going to be surprised when she arrives tomorrow?"

And the questions only got harder, though at least he could answer this one.

"Dave will take care of it."

It was the answer that wasn't answer, but he just couldn't give anything more, or the wall would fall there and then. And that couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it. He brutally shoved everything into the recesses of his mind, his face tightening as he did so. It was a tell, if Morgan was looking for one.

"I have a team to run here, Hotch. We'll have a new case in the morning. Will my team be able to function?"

Anger blazed inside him at that question. If Morgan doubted the team before he even started, how could he ever truly lead them? He snapped his head up, and glared across the room.

"Of course they will! How can you doubt them, any of them, after so long?"

At least Morgan had the grace to look slightly guilty.

"I know, man, but I care about them. They're my friends. I don't have the separation you have."

And there was the root cause of all his problems. After Haley had left, he'd moved himself away from them all as he'd struggled to deal with the changes, and he'd ended up building a wall that hadn't existed before. But he'd found that it was a wall which had worked both ways – he'd been just as unable to reach out to them, as they'd been to reach out to him. Every effort from either side had run up against solid concrete. He actually thought it was why she'd found her way to where she was now.

He sighed. "Don't build a wall, Derek. Don't make the mistakes I did. You need to lead the team, but you need to be there with them, for them. You have to keep yourself open, or you'll end up where I am now."

Bitter. Broken. Rejected. He was all those things and more, a man carrying so much because he'd never opened up to any of the requests to share his burden. He'd always dealt with things his way, and it had cost him his marriage, his son, the job he had lived for, the woman he could not even admit to himself that he loved.

"They'll be fine, Derek. They're a good team - the best. And you're a natural leader. You'll excel, and they'll excel with you. But it's time for me to move on, before Strauss acts to change things on her own terms and destroys the team."

Before it became obvious that her relationship was slowly killing him. Before he said something which had the potential to hurt that relationship.

"You _are_ the team, Hotch."

He shook his head slowly. "I _was_ the team, Derek. You're the team now."

The box seemed light as he picked it up off the desk. Ten years with the BAU and everything that mattered to him fit in one medium sized box. Had it been worth it? The incredible toll on his life? Yes, he knew intellectually he'd made a difference, but somehow that didn't reach the part of him that needed consoling. Would he do the same thing again, given the chance? No, definitely not. He'd have reached out to her, let her in past the barriers, accepted the offers of friendship she'd offered. It might not have made a difference in the end result, but it would at least have given him a chance.

"Goodbye, Derek."

He tucked the box under one arm, and reached out his other hand. Morgan looked down, but instead of reaching out his own hand in return, the other man stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug.

"We'll miss you, man."

"I'll miss you all as well. More than I can say."

And before he cried again, he walked out the door, across the room, and out the glass doors of the unit. He didn't look back, because he wasn't sure that he'd have been able to go on if he did. So he just kept walking out into the night.

The wall fell when he reached home. Broken forever. Just like him.


	2. Don't make me cry

**Author's Note:** Obviously everything in this chapter is complete speculation based on how, in my little AU, the events of this coming Wednesday's episode play out. There are obviously no spoilers as all that we have is the trailer, but I still want to provide a warning because my muse decided that, after watching the trailer, Hotch hadn't been broken enough, and what you see below is what came out. There is more after this, though my muse is currently being a tad skittish. Rest assured that the story is not over yet.

Thank you as always to **Sue C **for being a great beta, and to **sarramaks **for the continued discussions which somehow seemed to prompt this story.

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**Don't make me cry**

It was a quiet Wednesday morning, and Emily Prentiss was deep in a discussion on the latest edition of _Martha Stewart Weddings_ with the women who would be her bridesmaids, when her cell phone started bouncing across her desk as it vibrated. Reaching for the phone, she was surprised to see that JJ was reaching for her phone, as was Spencer at the next desk. Seeing she had a text message from her Unit Chief, Derek Morgan, she quickly opened it to see why he'd be texting her – especially since he was sitting not twenty feet away in his office. Hotch's old office. It surprised her that, even after three months of the man simply disappearing off the face of the planet, something that still caused a searing flash of anger whenever she thought about it because he'd never bothered to say goodbye to her, she still thought of it as his office. Although, truth be told, everyone still thought of it that way because, after sitting in it for the entire time the BAU had been in its current location, how could it be considered anyone else's?

Suppressing her momentary anger and reading the text message, she noticed that it simply said '911 – wheels up in 10'. Turning to JJ, she saw a look of surprise that was mirrored on Spencer's face as they both looked up from their phones.

"JJ?"

"I don't know, Emily. It's actually been a quiet week, and I'm sure that I'd have heard -"

The communication director's sentence was cut off by the sender of the text message bursting out of his office, ready bag over his shoulder, and phone clamped to his ear. He was obviously in the middle of some sort of heated discussion.

"I really don't care, ma'am. If you can't, or won't, get this done, I'll go straight to AD Skinner."

Emily had only rarely heard Derek take that tone before, and never since he'd been promoted. And it sounded like he was talking with the only person in the agency he called ma'am – Section Chief Erin Strauss. What the heck was going on? Why was Derek talking like that to Strauss of all people? And what was so important he'd go directly to an Assistant Director?

"Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it."

Derek snapped the phone shut as he reached the glass doors of the BAU, stopping briefly to see that his team hadn't even started to move, save that Dave had appeared at the door of his own office.

"Come on people. Get your freakin' asses into gear! You've got nine minutes."

And with that he was through the doors, fast walking down the corridor, phone again up to his ear.

Whoa! The anger was plainly evident on Derek's face, and she couldn't ever recall him yelling like that at them. She looked over at JJ and Spencer, who were obviously also stunned at the normally urbane man's outburst, before they all jumped at once to quickly collect their things and grab their ready bags, all discussions regarding wedding plans completely forgotten. As she started to move away from her desk, Emily spared a glance for Penelope Garcia, who was currently doing an incredibly good impression of a goldfish, mouth wide open in disbelief.

"Pen?" There was no response from the team's IT person extraordinaire. "Penelope?"

Finally noticing that she was being spoken to, the other woman slowly turned to face Emily.

"Can you find out what's going on?"

As her brain finally kicked into gear, Penelope's mouth snapped shut, and a determined look appeared on her face. "Absolutely, my loves. As soon as I know, you'll know."

And with that she marched off towards her own office, as Emily and the rest of the team moved quickly out of the bullpen.

* * *

Dave had been the last on the plane, allowing herself and JJ to climb the stairs first, but even so they'd not had the opportunity to do much more than drop their bags in the storage area before the door had closed, certainly not had enough time to sit down. So she was astounded when the engines started to wind up the instant the door closed, and the plane started to taxi just as she reached her favourite seat by the window at the centre table.

"This is Captain Rogers, folks. We've been cleared for immediate departure, so I suggest you get seated and strapped in as soon as you can."

Needing no additional warning, she dropped into her seat and fastened her belt, JJ, Spencer, and Dave doing the same as they grabbed the other seats around the table. Derek was at the back of the plane, still on the phone in another heated discussion which she couldn't hear over the engine noise, but his frustration clearly evident on his face. What the heck was going on?

Being an airfield that exclusively served the FBI, there was less than a minute of taxiing, and as the plane started to swing onto the runway she felt and heard the engines starting to scream, the maximum thrust nearly pulling the plane straight as it hurtled down the runway before lifting into the steepest power climb she could ever recall experiencing. Her seat shook, and she had to brace her hands against the table to hold her body upright as the plane seemed to literally claw its way upwards. Holy dramatic situations, Batman! They'd never had this much urgency in a case before, and she saw her own shock mirrored around the table.

"Sorry for the bumpy ride back there, but we're trying to get up to thirty six thousand just as fast as we possibly can in order to reduce the flight time. This is normally about a three and a quarter hour flight, but we're hoping to cut a half hour off that. The priority flight plan granted by the FAA will definitely help make that possible."

Holy hell! Derek needed to tell them what was going on. What on earth could be happening that was urgent enough that they'd been granted a priority flight plan by the FAA? That sort of thing could only be authorised by a direct call to an AD at the FAA by an AD at the Bureau. Is that what Derek had been on the phone with Strauss about?

It was about five minutes before the plane finally started to level out and things became more comfortable, time spent quietly talking and trying to figure out what was so critical, and where they could be headed. Spencer's encyclopaedic knowledge of flight times unfortunately hadn't narrowed their possible destination down that much. In that time they could go from anywhere as far west as Kansas, possibly as far north as the Dakotas, or somewhere in Texas. Which left a lot of possibilities.

Fortunately, as the plane started to level out the engine noise subsided somewhat, and she could begin to hear at least part of Derek's conversation.

"I can't let you do that, man. I just can't. You know that. Look, we'll be landing in about two and a half hours. Let us help you do this. Let me help you."

This was followed by an exasperated sigh. She wasn't sure if Derek had hung up, or was listening to whoever was at the other end. The looks around the table suggested that nobody else was any closer to figuring out who that might be. Finally, after another couple of minutes, Derek ended his conversation and slowly made his way up the aisle towards them, one of the bleakest expressions she'd ever seen on his face.

"Derek?" she asked.

"What's going on?" Dave chimed in from where he was sitting next to her. It was strange how, in the last three months, he always seemed to be sitting next to her, given the opportunity. If she hadn't known better she'd have thought that he had some sort of crush. Then again, it was what Hotch had done up until about five months ago, and he'd certainly not had any sort of feelings for her. Perhaps Dave was just filling a vacuum, as it were, though she wondered where on earth that train of thought had come from, because the last thing she wanted to do was think about him! Still, she filed the thoughts away for future reflection as she realised Derek was about to speak.

"Get Garcia on the line."

She reached over to activate the computer and web cam sitting on the table, her friend's face appearing after just a few seconds, though she was startled to see that in the twenty odd minutes since she'd last seen Penelope, her face had gone from one of joy at helping plan a wedding, to one of absolute misery.

"Ready and waiting, sir."

She was stunned not only at the change in Penelope's demeanour, but also at her incredibly subdued tone. She didn't have long to wait to find out what had caused that change though, as Derek spoke again.

"Foyet has Haley and Jack."

Anything that might have been going through her mind as she'd wondered what was happening went immediately out the window, along with pretty much anything else vaguely coherent. Say what?

Seeing the confusion and disbelief plainly evident on all their faces, Derek continued.

"I got the call from Hotch right before I sent the text message you all. Foyet called him from the house where witness protection has Haley and Jack. Had them on speaker. Foyet was apparently sitting there talking with Jack, while he had Haley talk to Hotch. We don't know how he found them, though it's no surprise he knew how to contact Hotch. After all, he didn't hide the fact that he was taking over as the SAC for the San Antonio Field Office."

She was stunned. After all the pain that Hotch had gone through with the attack and having to send his family away, now he had to deal with this? She couldn't even begin to fathom how he must feel, his family threatened by a serial killer whose trademark was literally eviscerating people.

"How's he doing, Derek?"

"Not good, Dave. Not good. He sounded almost frantic on the phone, and I've never known him to do anything but get more focused. I've no idea how he's going to hold up through this. How was he when you had dinner with him, was it last week?"

Last week? Dave had dinner with Hotch last week, and didn't bother to tell them he was doing that? Now she was almost as pissed with Dave as she was with Hotch! At least Dave had the courtesy to look embarrassed at Derek's question, and the glare she was sending in his direction. Interestingly though, while Spencer seemed surprised at the revelation, JJ was also looking a bit uncomfortable. Had the woman she'd chosen to be her maid of honour known about this as well? Now she was royally pissed! Unfortunately, her anger caused her to almost miss the first part of Dave's response, so she forced it back into one of her innumerable compartments for the time being. She'd grill JJ later.

"He didn't look good, Derek. Seemed like he's aged a couple of years since he left. I don't think he's slept well since- … since Foyet's attack. The new role isn't helping with that, although I'm sure the workload is less than what he had with the BAU. You know Hotch though – all he does is work."

Hang on, what had Dave been about to say? Foyet's attack she certainly understood. After all, she picked him up and dropped him home on many occasions once he returned to work, and she'd seen firsthand how poorly he was coping at times. He'd seemed to be getting over that though, and so she'd stopped chauffeuring him – though admittedly that had been more because she'd been more focused on how serious her own relationship had been getting. What else could have resulted in Hotch not sleeping well?

"He sounded tired when I talked to him a couple of days ago," JJ chimed in. "I try to check in with every week or so, but with our schedule and case load it's hard. I honestly don't think he's in a good place at all."

She was sure that her eyes had to be popping out of her head at this point, and she almost had to censor her own thoughts before she decided it didn't really count if she swore in other languages, so she proceeded to do so in several. Her friends were conspiring against her! What was wrong with her that Hotch wouldn't say goodbye, and made no move to contact her at all since he'd left, even with so much as an email, only to discover that he'd seen Dave at least once, and talked with JJ somewhat regularly? Her life had been going so well, and today she suddenly felt tainted!

"I agree," Derek said, scrubbing his hands over his face. "He's on his way to Houston now, and he's adamant that he doesn't want SWAT or anyone else involved. Said that Foyet will kill Jack if he so much as sees a cop anywhere near the house. He's not in the right mindset to be doing this by himself though. I think that he's going to walk in that house and if he can't get out of there with Jack, he's not planning on coming out at all."

All her anger abruptly faded as she processed what Derek had said. The empathetic side of her immediately took over, and she felt tears prick her eyes. Hotch had no intention of living if he couldn't save his family. She pushed all thoughts of interrogating Dave and JJ aside for later.

She spent the rest of the flight tensely awaiting any sort of update, though not much was forthcoming. Derek had the FBI SWAT from the Houston Field Office mobilised to the address they'd received from witness protection, though they were holding a perimeter about a mile away from the house itself so as not to provoke Foyet. Hotch hadn't switched off his phone because Penelope had been able to track his progress via the built-in GPS, but he wasn't answering it either. They looked over the plans for the house in an effort to come up with some sort of strategy, and also reviewed the profile they had on Foyet. He was all about control, so why provoke this confrontation? It seemed contrary to what they would have expected from the man, though perhaps he was now focused purely on torturing Hotch. It was a scary proposition.

When the plane finally landed, she rushed with the rest of the team to the waiting SUV's, Dave and Derek driving respectively, and they raced across the city, lights flashing and sirens blaring, hoping against hope that they'd make it there before Hotch, or at least in enough time to assist him. Unfortunately it wasn't to be. As they neared the scene the radio traffic swamped them.

"Shots fired! Shots fired!"

"SWAT B, move in. You are free to engage the subject. Repeat, you are free to engage the subject."

"Jennings, your team takes the back. Cortez, you're with me in front."

"Ready?"

"Breech!"

She heard shots fired, able to recognise some of them as being from a large calibre handgun, not the HK UMP she knew was used by the FBI SWAT.

"Man down! Man down front room!"

"Man down! Man down front landing!"

"Immediate priority. Two ambulances required."

More shots, this time from the same model SIG P226 which she carried – she'd know that sound anywhere from all the hours she'd spent at the range over the years.

"Subject is down. Subject is down."

"I've located Agent Hotchner. He's critical. Get a paramedic!"

"Get that bus to the house. They should be clear down there."

"Shit! Get in here, sir. There's blood everywhere!"

She heard sounds of retching, followed by further exclamations of horror. In so many ways hearing everything over the radio was much, much worse than walking through a crime scene, even with the gruesome things they viewed on a daily basis. She watched Derek's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, and knew he felt the same. She felt tears trickle down the side of her face, saw the same on JJ's, and reached out her hand to comfort her friend.

They arrived at the house just as an ambulance was leaving, she thought carrying one of the wounded SWAT team members, based on the radio calls. She jumped out of the car and raced towards the house, thankful that she'd remembered to put on her vest somewhere between the plane and here. Somehow Dave reached the door first, and ran into two paramedics fighting against a struggling Aaron Hotchner. His shirt was soaked red, the same as she remembered it from his time in the hospital a few months ago. So much blood. He wouldn't let the paramedics treat him though, and kept trying to get up. She saw Dave race over to Hotch's side.

"Aaron. It's Dave. What's the matter."

She saw Hotch calm slightly, but couldn't hear what he was saying until she got closer.

"Jack. Got to find Jack."

"Aaron. Where is Jack? Is he okay?"

"Jack. Find Jack. Hide."

"Is Jack hiding, Aaron? Did you tell him to hide?"

"Yes. Told Jack … hide."

She then watched as he collapsed.

"I don't have a pulse. Start compressions."

Derek and JJ had arrived at some point during Dave's conversation with Hotch, but it was Dave who took charge of the situation.

"We have to find Jack. Search the house. He knows us. We have to give Aaron something to live for."

They spread out into the house, and she walked through what she supposed was the living room, but was filled with the coppery scent of blood – and Haley Hotchner's obviously dead body. Nobody could be alive after suffering that many stab wounds. She felt like throwing up herself, but focused on the doorway until she made it into the kitchen. This was bad enough when it was people you didn't know. But when it was someone you did ... words couldn't begin to describe the feeling.

She opened cabinets in the kitchen, calling Jack's name, but eliciting no response. Wherever he was hiding, it didn't seem to be in here, so she moved into another room that was had a few toys scattered around.

"Jack?"

She heard a whimper from behind a chair in the corner.

"Jack? Honey?"

She slowly crossed the room, listening carefully, and was sure that she could hear the child. She raised her cuff mic to her mouth.

"I've found him, but he doesn't know me. Can one of you come and help? I'm in the room off the kitchen."

A few seconds later, JJ entered the room behind her. "Jack? It's JJ. Do you remember me? I work with your daddy." She was speaking quietly, using the soothing tones that only a mother seems to know unconsciously how to adopt.

A small noise came from behind the chair.

"Jack? It's okay. You can come out now." JJ continued in her quiet, calm voice. "It's okay, buddy."

She saw movement next to the chair, and a small head emerged. JJ was now on her knees next to the chair, her hand extended towards the boy. "Come on, Jack. It's okay."

As Jack emerged, she could see that his shirt had blood on it. Not soaking blood as though he was wounded himself, but the sort of blood that came from an arterial spray. She had to leave, get out of the room, the house of horrors that she was standing in.

A couple of minutes later, as she continued to try and dry heave whatever was left of her stomach contents onto the lawn, she felt a hand on her back.

"It's okay, Emily. It's okay." Dave's voice was soft, and full of sadness and hurt.

"What happened in there? I don't think I can go back in, even if you need me to."

"We don't need you to Emily. You can stay out here. JJ has Jack, and she's taking him to see Hotch. He's in a bad way, but Jack has to see his father. Know he's still alive."

"What happened, Dave? Is it what I think?"

Dave sighed, as though he didn't want to answer the question.

"Dave?"

"It looks like when Hotch entered the house, he fought with Foyet. We don't know what happened exactly, but apparently Foyet managed to get away enough to shoot him, went through a couple of ribs, punctured a lung, and out the other side. It was a .45, typical MO for Foyet."

She swallowed. A gun that size could do a huge amount of damage, and she remembered the hole in Hotch's wall from the first time he'd met Foyet face to face.

"It seems like Foyet then propped Hotch up, and made him watch as he worked on Haley. We think Jack was in the room, because he has blood on him, probably from Haley."

She bent over again, nausea rising uncontrollably. How could Dave sound so matter of fact about this? As she stood up, she saw the anguish in his eyes, and knew that he was only just holding it together himself.

"At some point, despite the wound, Hotch managed to move enough to reach his gun, we think around the time that the SWAT team entered the house. Foyet was distracted, and managed to take down two of the team members, but when he came back for Hotch he was met with a double tap to the forehead."

She remembered the sound of the SIG firing over the radio, and knew immediately that she'd been hearing Hotch taking out Foyet – for good. But at what cost? He was grievously wounded, fighting for his life. Jack would probably have scars for the rest of his life after what he'd witnessed. And now Hotch had to recover, assuming he survived, and raise his son without a mother. When she'd seen him on that gurney, he'd looked about five years older than when she'd seen him last. More grey hair, more worry lines. What had caused that much of a change in just a few months? What was it that two of her closest friends seemed to know about, but weren't saying? Why was she so out of the loop? And where did she go from here?

The last question was at least answered when she heard Derek over the radio in her ear. "They've stabilised Hotch for now, and the ambulance just left. JJ and I are heading to the hospital with Jack. We'll see you there."


End file.
